


Break My Fall

by doku_no_kimi



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pining, Questionable French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doku_no_kimi/pseuds/doku_no_kimi
Summary: “I thought you didn’t need me to tell you you’re the fairest one of all.”“I lied,” he says with a mischievous smirk.A series of moments defining Rook and Vil’s relationship pre-/post-episode 5, narrated from Rook's POV.
Relationships: Rook Hunt/Vil Schoenheit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	1. l'important, c'est pas la chute...

“Oh!” the boy brushing past me breathes out as I accidentally side swipe him.

My bangs have grown out a bit too long and they occasionally block my view if I don’t move them out of my eyes. I’d been meaning to ask maman to cut them, but that was before the black carriage had suddenly shown up on our doorstep to take me away to NRC just a few days ago. At present, all of the new students like myself have assembled in front of the school's main building in honor of the sorting ceremony.

“Pardon, c’est ma fau-”

I turn to immediately apologise, but the force of the contact, combined with a perfectly timed gust of wind, is strong enough to the blow the hood of his robe right off his head. 

Underneath lies the the face of an androgynous-looking boy with a flawless, radiant complexion. Long eyelashes frame perfectly lined eyes and loose strands of ombré blond and violet hair that have escaped his braid dance in the wind. The image is enough to render me completely speechless. If one could compare beauty to a flower, this boy is an entire garden.

He glances in my direction to size me up before he pulling his hood back over his head, and as he abruptly turns away I already feel my heart ache to see him go. Like a single seed carried by the breeze and the lingering scent of his perfume, the moment buries itself into my chest.

Ah, so this is what it feels like. I can’t do anything but laugh.

“Is something funny?” he spins back around to face me, irritation dripping from his voice.

Even as he glares at me, oh how his amethyst eyes sparkle! The cruelest kind of hunter indeed- one that captures hearts without care nor mercy.

“Non, Monsieur!” I reply to him in good humor. “I was just thinking what a gorgeous day it is to mark such a tremendous change in our lives.”

“A beautiful sight, indeed!” I continue, gesturing toward him with a wink.

He huffs in annoyance and opens his mouth to comment, but the inquisitive, hushed chatter from other students nearby reach our ears before he has the chance to speak again.

“That’s Vil Schoenheit!”

“ _The_ Vil Schoenheit?!”

“He’s even more beautiful in person.”

“Who’s the boy he’s talking to?”

Hearing myself mentioned in tandem I grin, but rather than draw more attention to either of us he straightens and turns to walk away for the second time. My eyes follow his back and the cadence of his heels to where some of the students have already gathered to receive their assigned places to wait.

_Vil Schoenheit, fufu._ At least I now had a name.

Fifteen minutes before the ceremony all of us have been summoned to the mirror chamber, arranged in the order of the month and date we were born, leaving me to watch from a decent spot mostly hidden out of view in the back. I catch a glimpse of Vil’s golden-purple locks near the end of the first third of the group, leading me to believe his birthday must be sometime in the spring. Ah, how fitting.

My eyes begin to wander, taking in the grand room that surrounds me. There’s so much to observe that I lose track of time, not registering how fast or slow the ceremony moves- only the nervous fidgeting, excited reactions, bored expressions, and any unusual features I notice from my peers.

When Vil’s name is called he confidently strides toward the stage, the echo of his heels once again drowning out most of the murmured voices trailing behind him. Paused before the grand mirror the room immediately quiets- everyone is more curious to watch his placement than most.

Yet no one seems surprised when, after analyzing the make up of his character, the dark mirror proclaims his sortment into Pomefiore, least of all Vil himself. He preens as he makes his way back, posture even straighter than before, and the triumphant smile he wears on his face lights up the entire room. Truly magnificent!

I begin to contemplate my own placement, which until now had seemed inconsequential. It’s no secret that most students from the savanna end up in Savanaclaw, which leaves me feeling an indescribable sadness at the thought of being sorted somewhere with less of a chance to run into him.

I spend the rest of the ceremony trying to guess how the mirror will sort my peers based on the observations I’ve already made of them. My intuition rarely fails me. Then finally, it’s my turn.

“Rook Hunt!” the headmaster calls out, and I move to take my place in before the mirror. 

My footsteps are light as I approach, keeping my features perfectly schooled and eyes hidden under my bangs. When I stare into my reflection inside of it, I concentrate on revealing only the internal desires I want the mirror to see. Its presence in my mind is an off putting invasion of privacy, but just this once I’ll ignore it if there’s a chance I...

“Rook Hunt, Pomefiore!” it bellows out.

Without giving away any expression I nod and quickly move to make way for the next person to be called. As I retreat back to my spot, my eyes rove over a multitude of faces until they find the half-shocked look on his, and another grin blooms across my own.

Coincidence, or is it fate? Excitement rushes through my veins.

After all, Vil may have landed the first shot, but I’m not accustomed to being anyone’s prey. Shall we make a game of it? Which one of us will be the first to surrender?

Either way in the end I’ll make sure my heart isn’t just another nameless one offered up on his platter, ready to be consumed.  
  


☽ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ❀ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ☾   
  


On my way back from tending to some of the plants in the botanical garden I find Vil sitting beside the alchemy workshop, nose buried in whatever tome has piqued his interest this week. I’ve noticed that in his free time, especially on days when the weather is nice, he often finds a secluded place outside to sit and read.

Like myself, Vil seems to value his privacy and doesn’t seem particularly close to anyone else in our dorm. Unlike me, it seems more of a personal choice than an unvoluntary one. While I may have been accepted into Pomefiore, it doesn’t necessarily mean Pomefiore has been eager to accept me.

Eccentric, unkempt, a creep. These are just some of the words that hang in the air like stale perfume as I pass through the halls and other shared spaces.

Vil, too, is no stranger to the way his presence elicits more conversations about him than those that include him. He may possess the respect and admiration of our peers, but not many seem to have the courage to approach him.

Well, that simply won’t do, will it? Even the plants I often visit appear to grow lovelier with just a few kind words in addition to regular water and sunlight.

“Bonjour!” I greet him with a wave.

He doesn’t respond, but rather than take offence over the fact that he might be purposely be ignoring me, I pretend he’s simply too absorbed in what he’s currently reading. It’s only when I’ve closed the distance between us and am practically standing over his head that he sets the book aside, finally looking up to acknowledge me.

“Hello... Rook, isn’t it?”

“At your service,” I say, bowing for emphasis, but when I do my hat accidentally flies off and lands at his feet before tumbling away.

As I raise my head my surprised expression meets his serious one, and we stare at each other in silence for a few seconds until a smile cracks through his mask and laughter erupts across his entire face.

Even as he brings a hand up to quickly cover his mouth, the sound that escapes and the way his eyes light up are so beautiful I’m mesmerised, and then without realising it I’m laughing with him.

Eventually the two of us regain our composure, and then with a swipe of the magic pen from his pocket my hat floats back into his waiting hand.

“Well, I suppose you’ll do,” he says, adjusting it back onto my head. “Follow me.”

Vil’s tone makes it sound more like an invitation than a command, yet one not used to being refused. He starts off- long legs carrying him quickly in the direction of the main building. He doesn’t glance back to see if I’m behind him.

“Oui, Monsieur!” I quickly reply, hurrying to catch up.

“Just Vil,” he corrects.

“Oui... Vil.” 

Keeping one step behind him, together we make our way back to Pomefiore. Then, under Vil’s strict guidance, for the first time I learn exactly how much effort the practice of creating, preserving, and maintaining beauty requires.

“Here.”

Vil hands me his mirror and I take in the “improved” version of myself staring back at me. Foundation hides my freckles and any spots of redness from too much sun that his exfoliation and moisturizer routine couldn’t immediately cure. Eyeliner and eyeshadow applied with a practiced hand rim my eyes, making them appear sharper and more intense. However, perhaps the most striking change is the blunt bob cut that now frames my face.

“With the uneven length and split ends it’s the best I could do for now. When it grows out we’ll think about styling it differently.”

“Merci,” I nod with a smile. Vil slips a piece of paper into my hand outlining the beauty regimen he expects me to follow every day from now on.

As he sees me to his door I promise not to skip any of the steps, and with a curt nod of dismissal he reminds me what time he expects me to meet him tomorrow.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

It’s only much later that I realize it’s the first time he’s ever allowed anyone into his personal space- or rather- into his life.

I decide I like my hair the way it is.  
  


☽ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ❀ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ☾   
  


“You called?” I greet Vil as I step inside his room.

“There you are, Rook. Have you finished the preparations I asked of you?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

Halfway into our second year, even without heels he still stands taller than me. Vil’s hands move to adjust the collar of my shirt and I smile at what feels like a consequence of habit on his part rather than necessity. 

“What’s wrong? Feeling nervous?” I tease him.

“Of course not. Who do you think I am?”

A rhetorical question, but I answer in good humor anyway.

“The fairest person in this entire school, of course.”

“I don’t need you to remind me,” he replies, furrowing his eyebrows in exasperation, “but you on the other hand...” 

“Oya, is something amiss?”

“I‘ve finished reviewing all of the applications for vice leader I received. Yours wasn’t among them.”

Vil studies me for a moment before continuing. “Are you dissatisfied, Rook?”

“Why would I be? Nothing brings me greater pleasure than being by your side.”

His eyes search my face as if trying to discern whether or not I’m being honest. I suppose I owe him an explanation.

“I thought perhaps you might prefer someone who would be more dedicated to being your secretary. After all, you didn’t ask me to apply and-”

“I don't remember asking for your excuses, either,” Vil interrupts.

He brings a hand up to my chin and raises my head to meet his gaze. His touch feels warm and smooth against my skin despite the cold tone of his annoyance in his voice. I delight in the contact regardless- any skinship given from him is rare.

“If I wanted a dog to follow me and order around I would get one. Do you understand, Rook?”

Non. There's too much I don’t understand, like the way I know too much about him even though we aren’t exactly friends, or the level of intimacy we share even though we aren’t lovers. But this isn’t what he’s asking, and I do understand wanting loyalty without having to command it- to be valued beyond the image one projects.

“Oui.”

“Good. Then stand beside me tomorrow, Rook.” 

“It would be my pleasure," I respond, knowing this is as close as he'll ever get to admitting that he wants me to stay.

Appearing satisfied with my answer, he redirects my attention to a long garment bag hanging on the wall.

“I have something to show you.”

“Oh, what is it?”

Unzipping the bag reveals another robe similar to the ones we wear daily, but redesigned with sweeping sleeves and an elongated skirt.

“Marvelous! Did you make the adjustments yourself?”

“I drafted the pattern and had the supplier make a few different samples. This is the one I liked the most.”

“Well, aren’t you going to put it on?”

“Do you want to see it?”

“Of course.”

Vil’s hands move to undo the tassels of his belt and then to the bow at the back. Once untied, the belt easily falls from his waist and he lays it on his bed before removing his outer robe. Tall and lithe, even the silhouette of his body in just his undershirt and pants is elegant. I try not to stare.

Taking the robe out from its bag, I hold it up behind him so he can easily slip his arms into it. Then without him asking, I pick up his belt and re-tie it around his waist. I enjoy the act of dressing him when he lets me. Once finished, I step back to admire him in full view.

“I plan on wearing it like this from now on,” he states.

“Very beautiful, Vil,” I beam. “I have no doubt you’ll leave an unforgettable impression on anyone who lays eyes on you.”

“Would you mind turning around and showing off the details for me?”

He obliges my request, circling in front of me gracefully.

“Absolutely stunning! Though admittedly I was imagining how it would look more like this...” I trail off, not asking for permission before pulling him close and twirling him around. He feels as weightless in my arms as the skirt of the robe dancing around his feet.

“R-Rook! What's gotten into you!” Vil protests, but I give him one last spin for good measure before bending him backwards into a dip.

His cheeks are flushed and he looks slightly out of breath. Our faces are only inches apart. I could kiss him if I wanted to. I want to kiss him.

“Rook, stop,” Vil commands in a low voice, bringing two fingers up to my lips to prevent the possibility of one of us taking things any further.

“As you wish,” I reply, easing him upright and settling for a kiss on his hand before letting him go. “...Roi du Poison.”

Vil arches an eyebrow.

“It’s fitting, don’t you think? I remember how you once said every beautiful flower hides its poison. And surely, as my senior from tomorrow, it would set a poor example to simply address you as Vil in front of the others.“

He sighs. “Well, I suppose it’s better than some of your other nicknames.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“Take it however you want. And speaking of tomorrow...” He takes a sheet of paper off his desk and hands it to me. “I expect you to formally hand in your application to serve as my vice.” 

“As you wish. Do you need anything else?”

His lips move to say something but then he hesitates and thinks better of it.

“No, I’ll see you in the morning,” he replies and walks me to his door.

“Good night, Rook.”

“Bonne nuit!”

“And Vil,” I say before stepping out of his room, “the new robe really does look beautiful on you.”

The next morning I find a handwritten note and a bottle of perfume outside of my door.

_I expect you to look just as handsome today. I’ll be waiting for you to escort me. Wear this._ -Vil

After the crowning ceremony the two of us sit at the head table of the banquet that follows, Vil switching into his “work mode” to patiently receive all of the students and peers who come up to congratulate him.

I only offer a few words of support when directly spoken to, content to simply watch him greet his admirers. As the last few students pay their respects before dinner is brought in to be served, I feel his hand reach over under the table and gently squeeze mine.

He doesn’t look in my direction when turn to him and smile.  
  


☽ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ❀ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ☾  
  


It’s been 10 hours and 39 minutes since Vil was brought to the infirmary after collapsing from overblot, and the only time I’ve left his side is to retrieve a change of clothes and any other personal hygiene or beauty products he might want to use to freshen up with when he wakes up.

Later there will be time to address the hurtful things we’ve done and said, and if Vil no longer wants me to serve as his vice leader or stay in Pomefiore, I won’t object to his decision or beg to remain by his side.

I’m aware of what the others think- that some are jealous or find my unwavering support of him foolish. I can’t say that I don’t still love him, nor deny I let the seed that planted itself in my heart that day, watered by all the others we’ve spent together since, grow bigger and bigger. Now its blossoms fill my lungs to the point where, when I stare down at his exhausted and defeated form, it feels suffocating to even breathe.

I tell myself it’s all right if he never knows- if he never truly feels the same way. It was only ever meant to be a game between us, and then at some point our movements became so predictable they turned into a dance. Eventually the music had to come to a stop. What matters now is that he doesn’t wake up standing on the stage all alone.

As light slowly begins to pour through the room’s large windows, I wonder if this is the last time I’ll ever be this close to him.

Vil doesn’t believe in miracles nor fairy tales, and maybe he’s right- after all I’m no prince and he’s never been a princess waiting for one to save him but... If it’s the last time there’s no harm in trying. I think about everything that was real between us and gently press a kiss to his lips.

“Reveille-toi, mon amour. Il fait jour.”

There isn’t any change in his condition, only the steady rise and fall of his chest and the tick of the secondhand as it circles past 12 again. 10 hours and 40 minutes.

Another hour passes before I see him begin to stir, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, and eyebrows creased as if in pain.

“...Rook?” he calls out weakly, his hand blindly reaching out to search for mine. 

“I’m right here,” I say, giving it a squeeze in return. “You must be thirsty. I’ll go bring you some water and get the nurse.”

When I reach the other side of the door, I exhale in relief.  
  


☽ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ❀ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ☾  
  


“Rook? Rook!”

Lying under one of the shady trees in the field, Vil’s voice rouses me from the nap I was trying to sneak in before the start of afternoon classes.

“There you are.”

I can tell he’s cross by the tone of his voice. Field work and napping outside aren’t hobbies of mine he encourages. I decide I’d rather feign sleep now and be scolded later.

“Hmm,” he pauses to contemplate something. In a way not being able to admire the sight of him standing over me in his 13 cm heels is its own punishment. Then I feel the grass rustle beside me as he kneels.

I keep my body still and my breath shallow as not to give myself away. I can feel the weight of his gaze even with my eyes closed, hidden under my hat. Then I sense his cheek brush against the brim of it, and his lips press against mine. It's a kiss that doesn’t last any longer than a second, but a kiss nonetheless.

“I thought I had dreamed it, but there’s no mistaking they were your lips.”

Ah, well played, Vil. To react or say something now would prove being guilty all along.

“How many times have I told you not to go around napping outside?” Vil whispers into my ear.

And saying nothing further he stands and then he’s gone, leaving me stunned and completely wide awake, my heart racing faster than my thoughts can keep up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thanks for reading! These two live in my head rent free and I needed a place to get some of these thoughts out since it seems like canon isn't going to feed us anything substantial until at least December.
> 
> Best of luck to everyone rolling for Vil's Halloween SSR~


	2. c'est l'atterrissage

I return to the dorm after classes and club activities prepared to diffuse or define whatever had prompted Vil’s behavior that afternoon.

Instead I find the key to his room and a handwritten note on my desk, explaining that due to a sudden schedule change he’ll be gone until next Friday for work. He expects me to make sure Pomefiore runs smoothly in his absence and to attend the weekly dorm leader meeting in his place. (I can find the files and notebook where he keeps minutes in their usual place.)

Usually any situation requiring Vil to rely on someone is countered with a predictable attempt at pushing them away, but curiously his letter lacks any of his previous threats to replace me should things go awry. Mentally I add it to the accumulation of changes in his behavior since his overblot.

The following Friday I’m stretched out across the lounge chaise in his room, paging through a well worn novel from his bookshelf as I wait for his return.

The week had passed unaccompanied by any trouble, and rather unremarkably without his presence. An hour ago he’d sent a text to let me know he was on his way back, and though I’d already removed my make-up and showered for the night, I put on my uniform again to receive him.

I can hear the swish of his robe and the sound of his footsteps coming down the hallway as he approaches. Not fond of the extra attention from our peers that would accompany dressing in his own attire, Vil usually opts to change back into his regular dorm wear before stepping foot on campus.

As he comes to a halt outside the door, I call out to him that it’s unlocked.

“Welcome back,” I greet him, setting the book of his I’d been borrowing down.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” he answers back, bending to slip off his boots and place them next to mine. “I trust nothing happened while I was gone?”

“No, nothing worth any of your concern. Come, sit- you must be tired. Would you like some tea?” I ask, gesturing over to the tray I’d set out earlier on his desk. “Decaf, of course, since I know it’s late.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you anyway,” Vil replies, already in the middle of slipping off his outer robe.

As soon as it’s hung he strides over to the side of his bed and immediately slumps across it, letting out a long sigh.

“Oya, it seems you’ve had a long day,” I comment, swinging off the chaise.

“Let me help you,” I offer, removing my own outer robe and gloves before moving to sit beside him.

Vil doesn’t say anything when I begin to massage his calves, but immediately I can feel him relax under my touch, and after a few minutes I hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

It’s not unusual for Vil to ask me to rub sunscreen on his arms, neck, and other places on his body, before gym class or spending any significant amount of time outdoors, regardless of whether he could technically reach them himself. Nor is this the first time he’s let me give him a massage. Vil says it’s because I have capable hands. I think it’s because neither of us can admit we both enjoy the contact.

As I slowly make my way up his legs I try not to think too much about how good his skin feels to the touch. I’m usually better at focusing my attention elsewhere, but tonight his calves and thighs, lean but toned from daily yoga workouts, morning runs, and wearing heels, are almost too distracting. 

I’ve missed his presence. Not only that, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the “parting” kiss he gave me before he left.

“Comfortable?” I tease.

He doesn’t answer, but when I push certain spots I’m able to draw out small, muffled moans from him . It’s too difficult to concentrate, even if I don’t want to stop. I want him to feel good- he deserves to feel good. I want to take pride in being the cause.

“Wait here,” I say, moving off the bed.

Vil’s sitting up on the side facing his desk when I return with a bowl of warm water and some washcloths.

I pull up the chair from his desk, taking a cloth from the pile and wetting it before sitting down in front of him. After I’ve used it to dampen his face, I pump oil cleanser from one of the bottles set out beside the mirror into my hands, warming it with my palms before carefully bringing my hands up to his face to begin removing his make-up.

Vil only closes his eyes, not saying anything as I work. His routine only varies slightly from my own, and even the different formulas contained in each bottle and jar he uses are ones I’ve helped him perfect over the years. Cleanser, toner, serum, treatment, moisturizer... by now the process is so natural the day would feel incomplete without it- not that it would hurt him to miss a day every once in a while.

Even if he uses makeup to enhance his features, Vil has nothing to hide. His face is perfectly symmetrical with well defined cheekbones and skin that feels soft and supple to the touch. Its flawless appearance is no secret, but Vil’s bare face, free of foundation and unairbrushed, is just one of many sides of his beauty few people have seen other than myself.

I take a moment to study him and register any minute changes in his condition since the last time I saw him.

“What is it?” He opens one eye, watching me watch him.

“Nothing.” I meet his gaze with a smile. “You look beautiful as always, Vil.”

Even so, I rub some extra cream under his eyes before applying the final treatment to prevent them from looking tired tomorrow. 

When the last part of the routine is finished I dry my hands, then gently remove the crown from his head to begin unbraiding his hair. He turns the opposite direction to accommodate the gesture.

“Did you miss me?” I nudge him, running my fingers through the strands and loosening the them out.

“Don’t be silly,” he answers, eyes closed again. But the way Vil leans back into my touch, until I’m almost cradling his head in one hand as I brush with the other, doesn’t escape me.

“Fufu,” I chuckle inwardly, continuing to comb through his silky, ombré strands.

Vil doesn’t wash his hair every day to prevent it from appearing flat and unhealthy, but I can tell he did today by the lingering scent of his shampoo. Familiar and comforting, I wish I could bury my nose in the smell of it. Perhaps I could, if only both of us were more honest with one another. Again, I’m reminded of the kiss from last week. 

“Vil, have you ever been in love?”

“Hmm...” his voice trails off without immediately answering. “Would it matter if I have?”

I let the question hang in the air, giving the section of hair I’m holding a few more passes with the brush as I mull over how to respond, but then Vil is first to break the silence.

“People are fickle. When they’re swept up in the moment or a feeling they make promises they can’t keep. The temporary payoff doesn’t seem worth the risk.”

With his head turned away from me I can’t read his face, and even the reflection of his profile in the mirror is too hidden to guess whether he’s speaking from personal experience or not.

“And yet, I’ve never known you to back down from taking any risks.”

“I don’t like to take risks I’m not sure I can win.”

“That doesn’t strike me as taking much of a risk then.”

He glances back over his shoulder at me. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“Ah, forgive me,” I laugh, setting the brush down. “Luckily I have you to remind me. Forget I said anything.”

“Rook...” he sighs, shifting in my direction to face me completely. “You of all people should know by now that if you give whatever you’re chasing the chance to run away, it will.”

“That would be tragic indeed,” I reply, cupping the side of his face with one hand.

“I agree.”

“In that case...”

He doesn’t protest when I bend down and close the space between us, nor when my lips brush against the corner of his mouth. Instead, I feel the corners of his curl upwards.

“Ara, I didn’t believe you were really asleep.”

“Ah, I’m afraid you found me out,” I concede, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I should punish you,” he threatens behind a barely concealed smile.

“If that’s what you desire,” I rejoin, placing another on his cheek.

“Or... maybe you can find a way to make it up to me.”

“Oui,” I agree, angling my mouth to cover his and taking pleasure in the softness of his lips on mine. When Vil parts his mouth slightly I welcome it as permission to deepen the kiss and he grabs ahold of my shirt in response, either to brace himself or to keep me from pulling away.

I try to pace myself to savor the moment but the taste of him is much too addictive, and as his mouth captures mine it’s difficult not to succumb the neediness that fills each kiss he gifts me in return, as if they’ve been laced with sweet poison.

When he finally breaks away to catch his breath I observe its effect in the swell of his lips and the faint blush dusting his cheeks, and my eyes wander lower until they land on the bulge straining his pants, much like my own.

“I won’t ask you to stay.”

His words mask a confession and an invitation that only a fool would refuse. 

“You already know you don’t have to,” I promise, leaning down to kiss him again as my hands move to undo the buttons of his shirt. When I finally make contact with his skin Vil moans into my mouth as he pulls me in closer, his legs opening and allowing me to rest one knee on the bed between us.

With a single shrug Vil’s shirt slips off his shoulders and pools around his waist, and he brushes his hair aside, offering up the exposed skin on the column of his neck to me. I eagerly lavish it with attention, using my hands to explore all the other uncovered parts of his upper body.

Eventually he pulls back to remove his slacks and I watch, mesmerized, while fumbling with the buttons of my own shirt as he repositions himself in the center of the bed and beckons me to join him.

His unblemished skin looks even fairer paired against the deep purple hue of the sheer underwear revealed underneath. Sometimes, like right now, it’s hard to believe he’s even real. The shutter in my mind goes off as I try to take a mental picture to keep with me, knowing all the while it’ll never compare to the real thing.

“Well?” Vil asks shamelessly, striking a coy pose.

His voice doesn’t betray anything but I can tell he’s trying just as hard as I am to keep up the pretense of who we’ve always been as the boundaries shift between us.

“I thought you didn’t need me to tell you you’re the fairest one of all.”

“I lied,” he says with a mischievous smirk.

“But don’t let it go to your head,” Vil warns, raising himself up just enough to grab the waist of my pants and pull me down beside him.

“Tu es magnifique, mon amour,” I whisper into his ear and feel him shiver against me. 

The way his body responds to mine excites me in every way imaginable, and I want to find out where all the places he’s most sensitive are. Vil obliges as I trail kisses down his body, praising every inch of his bare skin while paying special attention to anywhere that elicits a positive reaction from him. 

It’s not that different than hunting, I muse. Canvas the area, familiarize yourself with the prey, take pleasure in the thrill of the chase, and then finally- _une petite mort_.

When our lips meet again his arms circle around my neck as he coils one leg around my waist. I can’t get enough of the the taste or the touch of his skin or the feel of his pulse racing under my tongue. Vil, desperate for something more, begins to grind against me, and I bite out a groan in response.

“Do you have anything to...?” I murmur against him, tugging at the last barrier of fabric covering his body.

“The left-hand drawer,” he breathes out, helping me slip it off of him.

Since he’s already prepared I can only assume he’s thought about doing this or had others in his room before. The chance of the former excites me enough to brush aside the sharp sting of jealousy I feel considering the latter. 

I uncap the bottle and squirt some into my hands, smiling to myself. It doesn’t surprise me that Vil, sparing no detail when it comes to aesthetics, would even keep lube in a pretty glass bottle.

“Vil..?” I look up, searching for his gaze.

When our eyes meet he gives me a nod and I press a kiss to his inner thigh, pushing one finger inside with little resistance. As I slowly begin to prep him, pumping in and out, I watch one of his hands tighten around the sheets while he attempts to hide behind the other.

“Non, non,” I chide him gently. “Show me how pretty you look.”

When he doesn’t comply at first, I stop moving until he finally gives in out of frustration.

“Rook...!” he whines out, uncovering his face to glare at me.

“Ah, that’s better,” I praise him with a grin, rewarding him with a second digit. “So beautiful, even when you’re cross with me.”

The unamused expression on his face quickly fades to one of pleasure as I continue to move inside of him, and when I finally find the spot I’ve been looking for he cries out, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Does it feel good?” I tease, adding a third, but Vil only responds by moaning and clenching around me. 

Recovering slightly, he uses a foot to rub against the erection straining my own pants, and I gasp out at the sudden friction. Pleased at eliciting the desired response, he smirks at me in triumph.

“Surely not as good as that.”

“Ah, ah,” I grab ahold of his foot. “Good things come to those that wait.”

“Better things come to those that don’t,” he replies, emphasizing his point with the other.

Taking the hint I strip off the rest of my clothes, then apply more lube with one hand before lining myself up against his entrance.

I give him one last look make sure this is what he really wants, and when he still urges me to continue, I begin to gently push into his welcoming heat until I’m completely buried inside of him.

The way Vil feels wrapped around me is so good I can’t imagine I’m going to manage to last for very long. I move slowly inside of him, giving us both a chance to get used to this new rhythm between us.

Vil angles his hips to meet each of my thrusts, and when he begs me to move faster I do, doubling my efforts until he’s mewling and panting beneath me, legs locked around my waist.

Increasing the pace, I take in the messy way his hair is splayed around him like a halo, the music of his voice mixed with the sound of his skin against mine, and the enraptured expression on his face. Edging closer and closer to release I spread him further apart, until his legs are resting on my shoulders and there’s not any more space to take up between us.

I reach down and stroke his member as I continue grind into him, helping him along until at last he feels just as close as I am.

“Let go, Vil,” I coax, slamming into him one last time.

“Ah...!” His body tenses, clenching around me as he comes into my hand, and the sensation of it combined with how beautiful he looks in the moment sends me over the edge with him. I’m not able to pull out in time, breathing his name as I find my own release inside of him.

“Ah, forgive me,” I apologize after with a nervous laugh.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell him, kissing the top of his knee before gently lowering his legs onto the bed.

With a leftover washcloth I clean him first and then myself. As soon as I finish I can feel the surreal veil of the moment shared between us begin to lift, and as reality fills the empty space left behind, Vil quickly recovers himself and pulls away.

I get up to follow him and without saying anything he hands me a pair of sweatpants before slipping into a sheer, white negligee from his armoire and padding into the bathroom.

“Oh là là, this is nice,” I say, fingering one of the lacy straps with a smile in an attempt to break the tension.

Even though he swats my hand away, his demeanor visibly softens.

“Something to look forward to in the morning, if you’re good.”

”Oui,” I answer, kissing his cheek.

“Here.” He passes me an extra toothbrush. “You can leave it here for next time.”

“Oh?” I give him questioning look, trying not to reveal too much.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he cautions, but his voice lacks any of its usual edge.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I grin back at him with a wink.

When we settle back into bed Vil lets me wrap my arm around him, bringing him in closer to hold, and his head comes to a rest against my chest. We stay like that for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth as we get accustomed to the strange, new feeling of having someone to take refuge in at the end of a long day.

“Is this one new?” Vil breaks the silence to ask, his fingers tracing over one of the scars on my arm.

“Ah,” I reply. “Does it bother you?”

“I wish you’d be more careful but... no.”

“Besides, the worst scars are usually the ones no one can see.”

I contemplate the meaning of his words, thinking about the first year boy wearing his ceremonial robes for the first time and the boy sitting alone reading under the tree. Maybe this is the real reason we were drawn to each other. And maybe starting from tonight, we’ll slowly learn how to be more vulnerable around each other until someday, after we’ve stripped away the rest of the barriers between us, we won’t have anything left to hide.

The thought is as exciting as it is terrifying, but maybe that’s all love really is.

“Also, I rather like being the fairer one,” Vil adds, snapping me out of my train of thought as he presses his lips against the jagged mark.

“You always will be,” I confess, kissing the top of his head in return.

Vil falls asleep soon after and I continue to study the peaceful, unguarded expression on his face until my own eyes begin to feel heavy. Relaxing into the softness of his body and the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, it’s not long before I follow him, this time into the world of dreams and whatever comes tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading!
> 
> Apologies this took longer to post than I expected, but I hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> As noted in the tags, I’m no native speaker of French, so please feel free to correct me if I’ve made any awkward mistakes.
> 
> It’s likely I’ll edit this work in the future to reflect anything that conflicts with canon once we finally get more of their backstory.
> 
> Luckily I was able to pick up Vil and Cater during the Halloween event, and hope all of you are enjoying the story and were able to welcome your favorite character(s) home, too!


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